


When Rain Falls

by TheOracleOfQuantico



Category: The Martian - All Media Types, The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: 2nd POV, Gen, Inspired by Intergalactic-Poyo's headcanon, Mark Dealing With Earth, Mark Loves Rain, Rain, You are Mark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 07:55:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7836514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOracleOfQuantico/pseuds/TheOracleOfQuantico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time it rains, Mark isn't sure if it's real. </p><p>It is.</p><p>One-shot, 2nd POV because why the hell not?</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Rain Falls

You notice the change gradually, in the way that you notice your dog getting bigger or your parents getting older. The light turns from the yellowish color it normally would be to a darker, muted grey. You want to stand up and push the curtain aside to look out the window, but you’re not used to Earth gravity yet, so you reach over onto the smooth, fake-wood bedside table and grab a book, one of the Harry Potter books Johanssen left you. You thumb through it idly, and then you hear it.  
At first, you think you might be mistaken. After all, it doesn’t rain in space. But then it clicks.  
I’m not in space, you think, and suddenly, you’re so excited, because you’re not in space, you’re on Earth, and Earth has rain.  
“It’s raining!” you say excitedly, out loud, because that habit of talking to yourself on Mars hasn’t gone away yet.   
“Yes, it is,” one of the many researchers says as she takes one of your arms and attaches a BP cuff to it. You’ve gotten very good at ignoring them, but today, you actually talk to her, which probably surprises her.  
“So it’s actually raining?” you ask, and she nods.  
“Yep, started this morning. Gonna be shit to drive through later, though. They’re calling for thunderstorms.” She writes down numbers on a clipboard as she talks. “My cat’s gonna climb on top of the fridge again.”  
“No shit,” you say. “It’s really raining.”  
“Yeah. Do they not-“ she realizes her faux pas before she finishes, but you laugh anyway.  
“Earth is so weird. Water just… falls from the sky. What’s up with that? On Mars, I had to blow shit up to get this stuff.” She pushes back the curtain and you stare out at the rain as the drops fall down the window, leaving little trails of smaller drops like tiny snails crawling down the hospital.   
She leaves, and you lay there, watching the rain, until you’re gripped by a sudden, unrelenting desire to walk- or, since you can’t walk, roll- out in the rain.   
The door to your room slides open and Johanssen walks in. The crew, lucky bastards they are, were cleared much sooner than you were to leave the hospital, mostly because they spent more time in full (simulated) gravity than you did. She sits on the fake-leather chair and aims herself towards the window.   
“I forgot what that sounded like,” she says quietly. “I mean, I guess I knew it in the back of my mind, but…”  
“Yeah,” you say, because if anyone gets it, it’s you. “I forgot what it sounded like, too.” You look over at her and notice that her hair is slicked down against her neck, and you raise an eyebrow.  
“What? Oh, this,” she sighs. “I had to walk from the top level of the garage. I got a bit… uh…”  
“Damp?” you offer drily. She laughs.  
“Well, that’s one way to put it.” You both laugh, but you cut yourself short. That desire is back, unyielding and desperate to touch the rain.  
“Take me outside.” Johanssen looks almost startled by that request.   
“Mark, you’re not supposed to go-“  
“I don’t care.” You know she’ll understand. “I need to feel it.”  
“To prove it’s real?” And holy shit, she gives voice to the reason behind your desire to go outside, to prove that this isn’t a dream, or something playing a cruel trick on you.  
“Yeah.” You move to stand up, and she grabs your arm to hold you into the wheelchair in the corner. It’s one of those fancy ones they use post-surgery, with a padded chair and small wheels, so she has to push you, and the two of you head out into the hallway, past a few doctors, but the hospital is mostly deserted at 9 AM on a Sunday.   
You roll out the doors, not even processing that anything had happened until you feel a drop of rain hit your nose. You look up at the sky with the dopiest grin on your face, that shit-eating grin you’re famous for on the internet.   
“Fuck you Mars,” you say, raising a middle finger. Johanssen sighs and facepalms.  
“Mark, Mars is millions of miles away. It can’t even hear you.”  
“I think it’ll get the gist.” You can’t see that red rock through the clouds, but somehow, you’re certain that the sentiment reaches that rust ball.   
“We should head back inside,” Johanssen says after a minute, and you know she’s right, but it’s hard not to fight to stay outside a little longer. As the doors whoosh closed behind you, you want to dash back out into the rain and just stand there, but you can’t quite do that yet.   
“Ok, let’s dry you off,” Johanssen says as you arrive back in your room. She hands you her sweatshirt (which still fits over you) and you pull it on. She does some magic to your hair, and it lies flat against your head, and she grabs a towel from a nurse to dry your hair off.  
“Thanks, kid,” you say, ruffling her hair because she’s still shorter and younger than you.  
“You’re a dick, Watney,” she retorts, setting down her towel.   
“You love me,” you tease.  
“Yeah, you’re pretty sweet, but you’re not Dr. Beck,” she says as the great doctor himself arrives. He’s not your doctor, anymore, but he is still studying you as a project, so he’s on the list of literal hundreds of people who want to know what different ways Mars fucked you up.  
“So, I hear you two had an… eventful morning?” Beck asks, glaring at the both of you. You laugh sheepishly.   
“Well, it was all my idea,” you say. “ made your wife- sorry, girlfriend – take me outside.”  
“You do realize we will probably have to quarantine you again because of that little stunt, right?” Beck raises an eyebrow and you sigh.   
“It was worth it.”  
“Really?” Beck asks. “Just to see the rain?”  
“I had to prove it was real,” you admit. You’ve never been big on touchy-feely shit, but you have potentially jeopardized Beck’s research, so you at least answer honestly. “I had to prove that I wasn’t on Mars anymore.”  
“Next time, at least ask for a poncho,” Beck says after a minute. You nod, watching a rain drop slide down the window.


End file.
